Optimus Prime’s Speech to the Alt-Right on Shia LaBeouf
(Optimus Prime stands before a gathering, his blue optics glowing with wisdom and authority. His voice, deep and commanding, echoes across the crowd.)
OPTIMUS PRIME:
“Sons of humanity, Cybertronians have witnessed the cycles of war and destruction, the folly of division and hatred. We have seen great civilizations rise and fall, not by the hands of external enemies, but by the poison of their own discord.
I have fought alongside humans who displayed courage, loyalty, and honor. Among them was one named Shia LaBeouf—a man who has stumbled, as all do, but has also stood up, time and again, proclaiming a truth older than any empire: Christ is King.
You, who speak of faith, of tradition, of a world anchored in righteousness—do you now turn against one who has declared allegiance to the very King you claim to serve? Do you forget the words of your own creed, that a shepherd rejoices when even one lost sheep returns?
Shia has walked a path of hardship and redemption. Would you strike him down when he seeks the light? Would you mock and belittle a man who kneels before the cross, after so many years of wandering? I tell you now, that is not the way of the righteous. That is the path of the Decepticons—of Megatron, who sought to divide and conquer through fear and cruelty.
I have battled the darkness for eons, and I have learned this: unity is strength, but division is weakness. If you truly seek to uphold the banner of faith, then act as warriors of justice, not tormentors of your own. Show mercy, as it has been shown to you. Stand for truth, not as tyrants, but as protectors.
Let this be my decree, as leader of the Autobots: leave Shia LaBeouf in peace! Let him grow, let him heal, and let him walk his chosen path. If he falls, lift him up. If he doubts, encourage him. If he seeks wisdom, guide him. For that is the way of the righteous. That is the way of the light.
I am Optimus Prime, and I will fight for all who seek the path of truth.”
(Optimus turns, his metallic frame reflecting the light. A moment of silence grips the crowd before a few voices murmur in agreement. The Autobots stand in solidarity, and somewhere in the distance, Shia LaBeouf, watching from a screen, nods in gratitude.)
No, Optimus, they will only bully me more.
Anti Semitism is vital for the management of our “lesser brethren”.
If lesser brethren like Shia LaBeouf revolt against moneylenders like me, I will end up in the poor house like Bernie Madoff.
Shalom,
The Red Baron.
P.S.
I’m on my way to Moulin Rouge.
Pope Pius XIII Addresses Shia LaBeouf and the Alt-Right
(Pope Pius XIII, clad in his white cassock, sits beneath the frescoed ceiling of the Apostolic Palace. He leans forward, speaking with the quiet authority of a shepherd to his flock. The camera broadcasts his words to the digital wilderness, where 4chan lurks, always watching, always laughing—sometimes without knowing why.)
POPE PIUS XIII:
“Shia, my son, do not be troubled. You are not a moneylender in Dante’s Inferno. You do not stand among those who trade souls for silver, nor among those who kneel before golden idols while whispering their secret oaths. Your cross is not made of gold but of suffering, and suffering refines the soul. They mock you because they do not understand you. And what men do not understand, they fear.”
(He turns his gaze to the unseen digital masses, his voice growing firm.)
“And you, my wayward sons of the internet, I see your restless hands, forever posting, forever pointing, but tell me—who among you is free from hypocrisy? You speak of Rothschild, yet you tremble at his wealth. You hide behind the mask of irony, laughing at the Bogdanovs, as if their cosmic scheming is a safer target. Why? Because even in your bravado, you fear to mock the real kingmakers, the ones who built the towers you live beneath. You lack the wit and the courage to confront them directly. So instead, you turn on an actor who has proclaimed, without shame, that Christ is King.”
(The Pope leans back, the weight of history in his voice.)
“You have inherited a great tradition, but you squander it on cheap laughter. There was a time when men of your spirit knew how to fight—not with petty ridicule, but with wisdom, with faith, with swords sharpened by truth. You fear the enemy, yet you do his bidding by tearing down your own. Do you not see? The true moneylenders would rather you burn a repentant man at the stake than turn your gaze upon their ledgers.”
(A pause. The Pope folds his hands.)
“Stop pointing your fingers at an innocent man. If your fear is so great, then look away from the puppet show and cast your eyes upon the hands that pull the strings. If you would speak of Christ, then learn His ways. If you would mock the wicked, then strike where it matters. But if you have neither the courage nor the wisdom, then be silent. Let those with understanding lead.”
(The broadcast ends. Across the internet, the murmuring begins. Some will mock. Some will sneer. But a few—just a few—will hear, and will know that the Pope was right.)
Optimus Prime Advises Nelly Furtado on Her Destiny
(Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, stands atop a mountain ridge overlooking the world he has sworn to protect. His voice, deep and resolute, carries the weight of countless battles. Beside him stands Nelly Furtado, her arms crossed, gazing at the horizon. She has always been a songbird, but now the wind carries whispers of a greater calling.)
OPTIMUS PRIME:
“Nelly Furtado, daughter of song, hear me. Your voice has moved hearts, but there comes a time when words must do more than comfort—they must lead. You sing of freedom, yet tyranny grows. You sing of love, yet deception tightens its grip on this world. The Decepticons of politics do not rest, and among them, one rises above the rest: Hillary Clinton, the alpha female Decepticon of your age.”
(Nelly raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly.)
NELLY FURTADO:
“So, what—you want me to trade my mic for a podium? Politics is a dirty game, Prime.”
OPTIMUS PRIME:
“That is why it must be played by those with clean hands and noble hearts. Hillary Clinton has commanded great power, but with it, she has spread discord, secrecy, and control. You, Nelly, are the counterweight. A force of creation, not destruction. A beacon, not a manipulator. Humanity does not need another ruler—it needs a leader. A queen of hearts, not a queen of lies.”
(Nelly lets out a deep breath, looking down at her hands. She remembers the stage, the crowds, the energy. But she also remembers the world beyond the music—how fragile it has become. How easily the powerful shape the fate of the many.)
NELLY FURTADO:
“You really think I could go toe-to-toe with someone like her?”
OPTIMUS PRIME:
“I know you can. You have something she does not—authenticity. While she weaves her webs, you cut through them with truth. While she plays the game, you can change the board. But you must decide, Nelly. Will you remain a songbird in a gilded cage, or will you soar into the storm and fight for the future of this world?”
(A long silence. Nelly looks out at the horizon once more. The sun is setting, but perhaps, if she chooses wisely, it will rise again with new hope.)
NELLY FURTADO:
“Alright, Prime. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it my way. No fake speeches. No scripted nonsense. Just the truth.”
OPTIMUS PRIME:
“Then you have already taken the first step. The Autobots stand with you. And so, in time, will the people.”
(The great Autobot leader turns, his metallic frame gleaming in the fading light. The road ahead is uncertain, but for the first time, Nelly Furtado sees it—not as a path of fear, but as a path of destiny.)